Being Shot at From the Inside
by HouseAddict16
Summary: Cristina and Owen's journey through Owen getting diagnosed with cancer.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**The chapter where Cristina reflects on Owen in bed**

Cristina laid in bed opposite Owen, her head by his feet. She watched his chest rise and fall. A fan across the room blew directly onto the bed; they were uncomfortably warm in the Seattle summer. Cristina was in her usual tank top and underwear, Owen was bare chested in a pair of worn boxer shorts. His head was turned to the left, away from Cristina's direction and his shorts were creeping up his legs due to the squirming, trying to get comfortable in the heat. Her eyes fell to his right thigh, the scar from when he stapled his own leg shut, their first encounter. She remembered how she was assigned to help the Major and instead he ended up helping her. Her fingers found her own scar from the icicle, her icicle that he pulled out and then he stitched her up. The Owen from the before who had kissed her so hard she felt his lips on hers for days, was tough and arrogant and a bit of a sexy Mcbadass. That Owen had been replaced with a calmer more focused and thoughtful Mcbadass, he was still level headed and quick on his feet but now he was eager to focus and learn rather than be an arrogant hot shot. She still loved him, there was a bit of that old Owen hiding and she could see it underneath all the insecure, scared in his own skin Owen bits he tried to hide from the world. He was getting stronger and they were getting closer now that a new obstacle was upon them.

Owen shifted on the bed and Cristina drew her eyes to the three ports near his collar bone, his central line for the chemo. It happened to be in her favorite place on his chest, where she would rest her head in the evening while they sat together. He had decided that he wanted it directly after he knew he was going to need chemo. Cristina knew it was the right decision, but she was still a little bitter about losing her favorite cuddle spot to a piece of plastic. Their fingers were laced together as they left the Oncologist's office, "I want a central line" he said very matter of factly. She couldn't argue, it was a good idea and the earlier he got it the safer the rest of his veins would be. "I know it will be in your favorite place" he added. "It's the right decision." Cristina responded, she didn't want him to feel guilty about getting cancer, no one asks for cancer. "I'll just have to find a temporary new spot." She gave his hand a squeeze.

She remembered his speech when he told her that he was sick. "Throughout all of this, remember that I'm still Owen. I may be sick, or bald, or too weak to lift my own head, but I'm still your Owen. So you can get mad at me, and tell me about your bad days. I'll still be a person and I'm not going anywhere. I said 40 years and I meant it." She was upset at first because he had already rallied a team of Callie and Arizona to do all the appointments and had told Derek about the leave of absence, but she knew he was a planner, he always was. You don't get to be a Major in the army without being able to plan, take action, and rally the troops. He wanted Cristina to be his rock, "I know how hard it must have been to plan and keep Izzie's schedule, even though we were on the outs, I know it was hard on you on top of the rest of your life, and I don't want you to have to do that with me. I don't want to become a chore or a hassle. So Callie and Arizona are going to help me keep my appointments and my schedule straight, and you just have to go to work and be with me. I know it won't be easy, but it will be easier if you're around. I can't fight this one alone."

She felt a tear rolling down her cheek and quickly wiped it away, sniffing quietly to avoid waking Owen. She knew he didn't ask for this, that he was still himself despite being destroyed on the inside, but she couldn't help but feel sad and scared. She finally had who she was looking for and he was sick, he might even leave her and the idea of existing without him now seemed so impossible it hurt. He must have heard her anyway because soon after that he rolled over again to face her, awake.  
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked. She took in his face, how his eyes lit up and he became more him than he ever was with his ginger hair and stubble. The cancer had taken his hair too, Cristina missed it a bit, it made him easier to spot in the hospital and was one thing he had that was similar in the before and the after, but his bald head was pretty easy to spot too.  
"Yeah, it's just so hot with all this curly hair." she said with a smirk. She crawled towards him. "Move over." she commanded. He shifted closer to her side of the bed, so she could nestle on his right shoulder, since his left was occupied. "It's not the same." she remarked as she placed her head on him.  
"I know." he kissed the top of her head. "You're right," he mentioned looking down into her eyes, "this hair really does get in the way." he chuckled. "Maybe you should cut it all off too."  
She looked up at him, "Seriously? A bald surgeon doesn't look very confident, plus you happen to love my curls."  
"So?" Owen returned with a smirk. "I love you more."


	2. Chapter 2

**The chapter where Owen realizes he has a problem**

Owen's pager goes off. He's only been at work for 4 hours, a quick surgery and some paperwork and he was asleep in the conference room, patient files scattered around the table in two haphazard piles. His pager jumped around the desk top and interrupted his sleep. He stretched, read the screen and flew out of the conference room, a messy trauma was coming in.

The hours of sleep he was getting were increasing as the weeks continued. He found himself catching as much sleep as possible between patients and surgeries as well as after work the usual bed time came earlier and earlier. This was very unusual since he was used to sleeping for a few hours at a time and being able to function on a high capacity with little sleep. Soon the surgeries and work days were tiring him out. Cristina noticed when he was asleep on the couch when she came home one night.

"Hey." She said softly as she rubbed his back sitting on the edge of the couch in front of him. He woke with a sleepy look in his face and eyes.  
"Hey." He quickly kissed her and got up to make dinner. "What shall we have tonight?"  
They prepared the meal together and while they were busy they made small talk about Owen's new habits.  
"You've been sleeping a lot lately. Are you feeling okay?"  
"Yeah, just tired. You're not more tired lately are you?"  
"No, why you think I gave you mono? 'cuse I'm only kissing you, so if anything you got mono all on your own."  
"Oh I've been too tired to be kissing other women." He smirked as he stirred the contents of the bowl. "I'll start taking vitamins and get my blood tested tomorrow."  
"Sounds good, we can't have my big strong army trauma surgeon sleepy on us now can we?"

The next day he drew the blood himself in the supply closet and submitted the vials to the lab. He knew after he submitted his blood to the lab that it would be a long, anxious wait until he got the results. Every page he got made him jumpy, hoping that it was the lab with his results. He knew he shouldn't have been his own doctor, even if it was something as simple as being over tired and needing to up his vitamin intake and get out in the sun more.

So he did his best to stay busy, and awake. He found all his back charts and started the slow task of finishing his paperwork and getting it all in order. Luckily a large trauma came in, many people needing help and labs. He got sucked in to a large trauma needing multiple surgeons. While he was assessing the injuries he made sure the others were paged to help and he ended up busy until the patient was ready for surgery. Shepard was in on the surgery too, working on the man's brain while Owen took care of the chest problems. Midway through the surgery Owen got very flushed, hot and sweaty and weak in the knees. He shook his head a few times trying to clear his vision and focus on the chest cavity. Derek noticed.  
"Hunt, you okay?"  
Owen looked at him. "Yeah, just... got really tired all of a sudden." He shook his head again and stepped back from the table.  
"Someone get Dr. Hunt a chair and some water please." Derek stepped away from the table as well, stepping closer to Owen.  
"Are you sure you're okay? You're very pale, flushed, and by the looks of it you might have been dizzy." "Someone check his pulse, I'm still sterile."  
"Shep, it's fine. I just got fatigued, too much work and not enough energy. After the water and a brief break I should be fine. Thanks."

Hours later the surgery was complete and while Owen was still very tired he had made it through the surgery without and incident. They scrubbed out and Derek didn't bring it up. Owen could see the concern in his eyes when he asked, "Going home to Cristina? I heard she's cooking tonight." but he didn't bother asking about the cause of his incident.

As he was drying off he got a call from Cristina.  
"Where are you?"  
"On my way, just finished an emergency surgery. Everything okay?"  
"Yeah, just thought you'd decided to take another cat nap at the hospital instead of coming home for a good meal, I cooked tonight."  
"Can't wait. I'm headed home now, be there in a few minutes." Owen took the paper bag from the clerk,  
He started his truck and it roared to life. Owen leaned back in his seat and stretched his neck, he couldn't believe how exhausted he was, he thought, _either my days are more full or I'm really coming down with something. I haven't been this tired since the PTSD wouldn't let me sleep at all. _ He kept thinking about why he could be feeling this way, but all he came up with was that the lab results would hold some answers and he wasn't going to get better by worrying about it. He had his vitamins and all he could do was keep sleeping and working until he had real answers.

Cristina had made a great meal and was waiting for him when he came through the door. Callie and Arizona were busy, either out working or eating or whatever else they did together, but they weren't home that night. Owen was convinced that Cristina had asked them to disappear for the night, as they asked them occasionally for the apartment to themselves, but all Owen could say was that he was glad they got some alone time and had pretty understanding roommates.  
"Smells great." he said as he stepped inside.  
"It is great." Cristina had been learning how to cook, sometimes with Owen, and other times with Callie and she was getting to be pretty good at it. "What's that?" she asked gesturing to the bag.  
"Oh, vitamins."  
"Did your blood work come back? What did it say?"  
"Oh no, the traumas backed up the lab, but I figured it couldn't hurt to start my own regimen."  
"Here, sit, drink this. And take one of those." she handed him a glass of orange juice.  
"Orange juice and pasta don't go well together." he smirked again, hoping she'd get his joke.  
"Oh shut up and drink it. There's water on the table already." she smiled back, glad he was still feeling well enough to joke around. "You better be hungry." she said as she set the pot on the table.  
"Starved." He said reaching for the bread basket. "So, I didn't see much of you today, how was your day?"


	3. Chapter 3

**The chapter where Owen gets his test results**

Like all bad news, Owen's page to pick up his lab results came in the middle of the afternoon, while he was charting and the pit was slow. It had been a good day so far, he and Cristina got to eat breakfast before scurrying across the street, he got a good night's sleep and was beginning to think that the lab work was unnecessary, that he was just paranoid and he would be fine. All thoughts aside, when his pager went off and read 'lab results ready' he felt nervous and anxious immediately. All the ideas that he was fine vanished and he could only think of the worst case scenarios that were visible on lab results. The lab never felt so far away until then, when he knew that his labs could be important, and he walked briskly to retrieve them, hoping no one would see him looking anxious and picking up his own results. They were in a sealed envelope, as he had requested, with his name typed on a plain envelope. He knew of only one place to read them with complete privacy. The vent.

He found the vent on accident, he was exploring the hospital and trying to find a place to get away from everything, the medicine, the newness and found this door in the stairwell. It was his best find aside from Cristina, and the cupboard where he hides his surgical supplies. The sounds and the darkness were great at erasing whatever was going on in his mind and let him just be. The chopping sounds of the fan in the vent were calming, like the rhythmic lap of waves on the shore and despite the similarities the vent had to several places he'd experienced in the army, none of them triggered his PTSD. It was his place, and he knew that if the lab work had any opportunity to be unexpected, he wanted to read it alone, in the vent.

He made sure no one was in the stairwell before opening the door, he didn't want to be discovered. Opening the door he was immediately engulfed in the warmth and the darkness the room kept. He shed his white coat onto a nearby ledge and held the envelope between his hands. Before opening it, he needed the clarity the vent gave him, so he stepped on and waited. Shortly after he was surrounded by the quick steam burst of the vent, one of its many charms and heard the envelope flap in the air. Gripping it tighter he tried to clear his mind and prepare for what the paper enclosed might tell him.

He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his brow as he stepped off the vent and opened the envelope. Nerves mixed with the heat of the room was enough to cover his body and seep through his clothing. He gripped the lab results between both of his hands, it still flapped a bit in the breeze and he slowly scanned each variable he was tested for, each level recorded and what that level meant about him. He'd read labs for hundreds of patients but never did a mere piece of paper like this hold his fate, not since he was shipped out. He knew in the back of his mind that this quick onset of fatigue wouldn't just be a vitamin deficiency, he wasn't on any meds in Iraq and was more stressed and working harder there than he was here, yet it was here that he felt more tired than he ever thought he would. It was as if all the sleep he missed over there was begging to be had now that he was done serving and had a bed to sleep in.

He'd been reading labs long enough to know that when specific levels were low and others were abnormally high that the patient was sick. It felt completely different now that he was the patient. Once the whole report was read twice he knew. He had to sit down, for his legs were weak in the heat and the weight of his report was too much to handle standing up. He had cancer, he could tell. He'd diagnosed enough patients with similar levels to know. His mind began racing again, this time with what he'd have to do, doctors he'd have to see, people he'd have to tell, all the appointments and perhaps surgeries. He wasn't a doctor anymore, not today. Today was the first day he became a patient, even if he was without an Oncologist. Somehow he found the strength to walk to the vent again, and he stayed standing there, washed in the heat waves for many cycles. His pager brought him back out of the haze, another trauma. He was half glad, now he could bury himself in something that wasn't about him. By the time he'd made it back to the ER he was level headed again, back into his surgeon mode and out of the scared patient who just received his bad news. The patient was crashing, therefore they needed organization and Owen quickly jumped into the trauma, ordering people around and trying to save the boy before it was too late. His instincts kicked in and he didn't have to think, just react and do what was necessary to save the life.

After the trauma he felt the exhaustion again. As he changed into his street clothes he noticed that he was sore, like after lifting weights for hours. He was ready to go home and relax. After he paged Cristina that he was ready and waiting for her outside, he sat on a bench outside the hospital. The night was clear and he started seeing some clarity of his own. He knew he could do this, he was a Major in the army, he didn't hide from scary situations and he knew how to keep a level head when he was being shot at and he couldn't see who was doing the shooting. This was just like that, except now he was being shot at from the inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**The chapter where Owen sets some rules for Cristina.**

"I've had a lot of time to think these days." Owen said as Cristina entered his room. He'd started his chemo treatment and needed to stay in the hospital for several days. Eventually he could get his chemo as an outpatient, but the first few doses had to be more powerful and resulted in a long, boring, and painful hospital stay. Owen was still getting used to being the patient, Cristina was getting used to having her boyfriend as the patient, staying down the hall instead of being that amazing surgeon he is.  
"Oh yeah?" Cristina sat on the edge of his bed, watching the TV mounted on the wall.  
"I think it would be best if we had some rules while we're going through all this. So that neither of us get annoyed or tired of each other, so we can both be strong and clear headed and not bogged down with all this being sick business." Owen had taken her hand while she continued to gaze at the screen. Cristina looked back at him. "What kind of rules?"  
"Well for starters, I think it would be best that you try to get in on a surgery everyday. You have a much better day when you start cutting, at least that's what Derek says."  
"Okay, I can see what I can do. It would be in the morning most likely."  
"That' fine. Just make sure you do it." He looked at her. "I don't want my goddess getting rusty because of me."  
"Never." She kissed him.  
"I also think it would be important for both of us if you sleep in our bed more nights than you do here at the hospital. I know you want to be with me, and I want you to be with me, but I'll be difficult as this treatment wears on and you'll need your sleep. So as difficult as it is for you to sleep alone now, I think it's important that you get a good night's sleep."  
"Derek will have to deal with me borrowing Meredith then." She said with a wink. "I think you should only focus on today and tomorrow. Thinking too far in the future can get a person down, when the road looks all bumpy and crooked and you can't see the end. So it's important to think about today and just the next day. It's both attainable and fuel to get past what you're going through now."  
"That sounds like something Meredith would say."  
"She, with her mom, it was difficult because she knew the end. So instead she spent time with her and only focused on what she could really see. She said it made it easier to enjoy the now instead of worry about the end."  
"We will get through this."  
"I know." She paused and laid down next to Owen. "Enough rules. Let me enjoy this time. I'm bound to get paged sooner than we'd like."  
"Yes mam." He smirked and rested his head on hers and they enjoyed whatever mindless show happened to be half interesting at the time.

Cristina had to leave eventually, and Owen needed his rest. He was as he would be for the duration, in his bed, watching TV and trying to keep busy when Meredith walked by slowly. She stayed in the hall, peaking in.  
"She's not here." Owen called towards the hall.  
"Oh. Sorry to bother you."  
"It's okay. You can come in you know." He put his book down and looked in her direction. She walked in.  
"I know. It's just..." She was now closer to his bed. "You're her guy. And it was rough seeing you shot and having to take care of her while she took care of Derek. But now you're, I can't help you like I could."  
"Just take care of her. She's my person too." He gave her a half smirk. "I don't want to weigh her down. So please, take care of her. Make sure she's still cutting, and sleeping and all that stuff I can't see her do because I'm stuck in here."  
"We will. Derek and I already talked about it. And we will make sure you two are taken care of. You can't always see what's lacking when you're consumed by it all. So we'll help. Derek is planning on spending some guy time with you, just like before. He's quite the Gin player he says." Meredith smiled, Owen smiled back.  
Owen broke the brief silence. "It's nice to know we have people."  
"Yes it is."  
"She's probably in the pit or something, keeping busy. She charts in here, but everything else is busy work out there."  
"Thanks." Meredith turned to leave. "I'll be seeing you."  
"Thanks. Tell Derek I'm not bad at Gin myself."

"Will do."

Meredith and Owen had butt heads a bit earlier, with Meredith being her person and Owen trying to fill a similar role. But it was Mere who was around to help her through things Owen couldn't. He remembered a conversation they had had about Cristina early on. 

"I'm not a bad guy, am I?" Owen was looking at Meredith down on his left, at a nurse's station. He was charting, she was checking on a patient.  
"No, you're not." She said, closing the chart and handing it back to the nurse on the other side. "Just don't hurt her again."  
"I am forever sorry. Eternally, never-can-really-fix-my-mistake sorry about that." His eyes pleaded with hers, watery blue in a if I could plead with dignity I would, sort of way.  
"No, not that." She paused. "Don't hurt her like Burke did. He took her mojo. And then Hahn wouldn't let her be a surgeon. She was in pieces and you, well you sort of put her back together in ways that I couldn't. So don't break her. Because I won't be able to fix it after."

It was after this that he knew Meredith was okay with him, she knew Cristina needed him, and he knew Cristina needed Meredith. They learned how to co-exist and were doing pretty well with it. He dared think, they were almost friends, and he was glad to have his family grow to accompany Cristina's.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Chapter where Owen packs his bag for his next round of treatment**

Each round of chemo meant a stay at the hospital. Not in an on call room avoiding paperwork and catching up on sleep instead, but in a room being the patient tethered to the IV pole, in an attractive hospital gown with each day allowing him to feel less and less like a human and more and more like he was being eaten from the inside out.

He always packed his own bag to tote along with him. It was his standard Army issue digital camo backpack. He found it very fitting since fighting cancer is a lot like fighting in a war. He had an idea about what he was up against but he wouldn't know for sure until he was in the thick of it. He made small talk with other cancer patients occasionally, when he was receiving treatment and returning home. They knew what he was going through and he found that comforting, much like he did when he was sharing fox holes with total strangers who were supposed to have his back. He could never get over the looks people had when they made contact with him, knowing he was sick. He was tired of the 'poor sap' look. He knew the stakes and focused on the battle ahead. He was glad his friends were beyond that look due to already having dealt with Izzie and other patients. They went about it differently and they felt warmer instead of the 'he's so fragile he might break' looks they might have had. They had the look similar to the people clapping for soldiers in an airport had. The 'thank you for fighting' look, the 'we're glad you're alive and we're all safe' look.

He ritually packed his bag the afternoon before his date with the chemicals, and always packed when Cristina was at the hospital. He needed this time to process and prepare for what was ahead as well as to think. He didn't want Cristina to feel like she was supposed to help him. She had to help him with so many other things, he wanted to do what he could when he could do it, and right before the chemo was when he felt the best. It was bittersweet really, once he actually felt like a person again who could work and be a trauma surgeon was when he had to face the cancer all over again.

First came the dumping of the bag's contents onto the freshly made bed. He laid out and organized what was remaining from his last stay and replenished what was missing. It was a lot different from all the other times he had to pack his bag in the army. They would be in a barrack and their cots would become tables, to organize all their supplies and find out what they would need later. Making sure they still had their personal belongings, two sets of clothing and enough ammunition. Now all the supplies he needed were personal. Whether it was shampoo and soap because he hated the hospital supplied stuff, or entertainment for when everyone was busy trying to lead normal lives, all his stuff belonged to him, none was army issue anymore.

Comfortable clothing was important, anything that would make him feel like he was a regular person had to come along. He packed the worn in hooded sweatshirt and the matching and equally comfortable sweatpants, his favorite because Cristina would borrow them and return them filled with her scent. Anything to avoid the smell of the hospital. He didn't realize that the smell of antiseptic was cold and scary until he was a patient. As a doctor he had grown used to it but something about being in the hospital and being treated as a patient made that smell one of his biggest fears. He was still the head of trauma but he had lost the ability or the want to meet appearance expectations when he traded his white coat for colored chemo ports in his chest and lost most of his hair. He was surprised that even though the army had taken his hair that he felt self conscious about it when it was gone due to the chemo. He found that scrub caps were comfortable to sleep in and always packed his two favorites in case he was feeling self conscious. He also made sure he brought an extra pillow and blanket, the hospital was always running low and were pretty stingy about stuff like that. He had learned from his first round of chemo that he got cold and it wasn't very pleasant feeling like crap in blankets and pillows that smelled sterile and made you feel contagious. He always thought silently that once he figured out all the tricks to feeling comfortable in the hospital, he wouldn't need them anymore.

Boredom was almost as bad as feeling so terrible that you can't rid your mind of the cramping and the pain. He packed a deck of cards from when Derek had a free half an hour, several books to escape to another world with; he always made sure Cristina would find them interesting too since most of the time he couldn't focus enough to read them she would read aloud and he could drift off. He also would pack some familiar DVDs since it was easy to escape into a movie and also would help him fall asleep.

Once is bag was completely packed he would place it back on the floor at the end of the bed. It caught him a bit when he lifted it and it was light. He remembered how heavy his life seemed to be in the army, carrying everything necessary for combat on his back and now that he was combating something growing inside him it was almost funny that his bag was light. Even the ammunition for the cancer was light, just a few bags of chemicals that packed a very large punch. Owen found himself thinking at times that it might even be easier to get shot than it would be to nuke cancer.


	6. Chapter 6

**The chapter where Owen is home**

He always had two 'campsites' when it came to living at home. His day camp on the couch and the night camp in the bedroom. Day camp was filled with a pile of books he'd yet to read, at least two glasses filled with some sort of juice or water, a blanket, two pillows, the remotes, and a stack of DVDs. When he had first come home from his stay Cristina would stay for the first two or three days, then go back to surgeries in the morning and staying with him in the afternoon. If he was having really rough days and Cristina couldn't stick around, like he was in the beginning, Callie or Arizona would stay with him, sometimes even Meredith or Derek would hang out. Owen hated being home alone and sick more than he hated to bother people to keep him company but he knew it had to be done.

Owen had been up for most of the night, leaving Cristina little sleep. He'd moved to the couch later in the night, hoping that he wouldn't wake Cristina. But his consistent trips to the bathroom, despite his quiet attempts left her with less sleep than usual. He was dozing on the couch with some infomercials when he heard her alarm go off. He fell asleep and was awakened by Hurricane Cristina flying out of the bedroom announcing "I'm late!" She rushed into the living room, still darkened by the curtains. Owen had a side table lamp on, illuminating the living room enough so he could get around. "Have you seen my scrubs?" She asked Owen, waking him up.  
"Try the second drawer." He said into the darkness as she flew back into the bedroom, tossing clothing all over hoping to find her clothes necessary for work.  
"Found them!" She yelled back. Quick to toss them in a bag and rush through the living room again, this time putting up her hair and leaving.  
"Bye." He called quietly to her back, hoping she'd hear him.

He was still pretty sick. The chemo was rough and while he was on day three after being home, he'd spent most of days one and two sleeping and trying his best not to feel nauseous. While he had spent the night puking and getting comfortable, he actually felt like he was up to watching movies and remembering them, maybe even staying awake during one instead of being a zombie who only woke up to throw up, take meds, and drink fluids so he didn't dehydrate.

Callie came out about an hour later, bed head and all to see what was going on.  
"Cristina left?"  
"In a hurry." he spoke over his shoulder, watching the TV.  
"You okay?"  
"Getting there." He turned to look at her. "Don't you have to work today."  
"Nope. Today's my day off." She sat on the couch with him.  
"So what's on the agenda today?" Owen asked, turning his attention back to the TV.  
"Uh, let's see. Seeing Arizona for lunch, and then getting my haircut. Is Cristina coming back this afternoon?"  
"She was going to try, probably not. Back to back surgeries today." He paused. "I should be happy for her. She's busy being a surgeon finally."  
"She knows you're your main priority right now. And she knows you're still you. Somewhere in there you're happy for her. But your main focus is trying not to hurl, and keep your meds down. At least that would be my main focus. What are we watching anyway?"  
"Caddy Shack." They watched for a few seconds. "I am happy for her, but you're right, the whole not hurling thing takes up a lot of my time."  
Callie laughed. "If cancer were easier it wouldn't be so scary. It takes everything and all you can do is try to stay the same while it changes you. You're doing pretty well you know."  
"Thanks."

Callie hugged him and they continued to watch the movie.

Cristina paged Meredith to the OR board about an hour before lunch. She was busy juggling surgeries and interns to make sure all her work was done and she was sad to admit it, but she had forgotten about Owen for the first time since this cancer thing had started.  
"Meredith!" Cristina spotted her walking over.  
"What's up you paged me 911, is Owen okay?"  
"Yeah, at least I think so. I need you to do something for me." She looked frazzled, short on time and loaded with work.  
"Yeah sure what?"  
"I need you to take Owen lunch. And make sure he's fine." She handed back some charts. "I have a surgery in ten minutes and my interns are everywhere and he's been with Callie, maybe, this morning but he's still, he doesn't like being sick and alone and I can't believe I'm telling you this in front of everyone, but..."  
"But you're busy being badass and you need a favor. Fine I can totally do it. What does he want for lunch? Does he know I'm coming over?"  
Meredith knocked on the door, paper bag in hand. "Owen. It's Meredith. Do you want me to use the key?" She had just finished and was about to knock again when he opened the door.  
"Meredith." He was leaning on the door pretty heavily and was flushed and sweat covered his brow. She stepped in enough to let herself in and Owen attempted to close the door. Getting a better look at him Meredith saw that his shirt was covered in sweat and he was shivering slightly. "I had a much better morning." he told her.  
"Let's get you cleaned up." She put the bag on the counter and led him into the bedroom. He sat on the bed and let Meredith do the work.  
"I, I wish I could do this myself." He said as he took his t-shirt off and dropped it close to the laundry basket.  
"It's fine, really." She held a towel up so that he could finish undressing with some privacy. She turned her head and continued talking, "Cristina was swamped and wanted me to bring you lunch. I can page her if you want."  
"No," he said with hesitation, "no." He was more firm the second time, standing up and taking the towel. "She needs to be busy with things that aren't me." He walked to the bathroom, she followed.  
"You aren't a bother you know. She told me that herself." Owen stepped into the shower and handed Meredith the towel. "I'm staying here" she sat on the toilet.  
"Understandable." He called from the shower.  
"We were talking one morning, and she told me that she thought it would be harder. With you home sick that it would be more like it was with Burke, but you're not demanding and you know what you want. You're easy going and even dealing with those rough first nights, she's, you're not a burden and she isn't avoiding you by being at work. She didn't tell me to tell you, but I thought you needed to know." She paused. "She didn't send me here instead of herself. She couldn't leave this time. And she figured since it was the third day, and you've both done this at least once before that you'd be okay this afternoon."  
Owen turned off the water and Meredith handed his towel back. He stepped out. "Thanks."  
"No problem."  
"I meant about, for everything."  
"I know." She trailed along side him making sure he wasn't going to fall. "I don't feel much like eating. But I should probably try something. It's almost time for my meds."  
"Alright, I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Meredith and Owen enjoyed a light lunch consisting only of things Meredith thought he might be able to stomach. Between the obvious vomiting he had been doing before she arrived and the shower and lunch, he was quite exhausted after their meal.  
"I think I'm gonna go get some sleep. Thanks again for everything."  
"No problem. I can hang around for a few hours, I brought some paperwork I have to finish anyways. So I'll be in here if you need me." She worked quietly until Cristina returned from surgery.  
"How is he?" were the first words out of Cristina's mouth as she quietly closed the door behind her. She dropped her bag at the foot of the couch, and shed her coat onto the desk chair near the door.  
"When I got here he was obviously sick, sweaty and everything. I got him to take a shower, which wasn't hard by the way. And then we had a light lunch and he went to sleep. He's been in the bedroom ever since, probably sleeping."  
"Thanks Mere. I didn't mean to get so busy."  
"We know." She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Cristina headed into the bedroom, careful not to wake him. He was awake with the TV on low, mainly for light.  
"Hey." He called from the bed.  
"Hey yourself." She called back as she climbed into bed next to him, careful not to make him feel worse. "I'm sorry I couldn't get back. I got swamped with surgery and interns and everything."  
"It's okay. You need to be busy with something other than me sometimes. Meredith did a good job."  
"I just hope you're not getting busy with Meredith." she smiled.  
"Like I have the energy to get busy with two women, I can barely dress myself."  
"This is true." She kissed him. "I missed seeing you pop up around the hospital."  
"I missed you too."  
"What are we watching?"  
"Caddy Shack."  
"Again?"  
"Hey, I like the gopher."


	7. Chapter 7

**The last chapter**

They were back in that hot Seattle night, with the fan blowing on the bed and Cristina's head on Owen's left shoulder because the right one was occupied with the central line ports. Her curls were hot on Owen's shoulder, but he didn't mind, he was glad he was actually hot for once because of the heat and not because of being ill. He kissed her head again.  
"I can't believe tomorrow starts my last round of chemo." He paused. "It's almost all over."  
"I know." Cristina looked up at him. "I can't believe it either. I still feel like you could just slip away at any moment."  
He looked down into her eyes. "This last round is just a precaution. The surgery cut it all out, and they got almost all of it." "We're going to be fine, I promised forty years. And you'll get them."  
"I better."  
"I better get forty years as well."  
"Oh you will, I don't plan on going anywhere."

They sat together enjoying the company without worrying for once. Owen wouldn't have to get up to go to the bathroom in a hurry, Cristina wouldn't have to answer any pages, they were together and uninterrupted for the first time in awhile.  
"What will you be glad to get back?" Cristina asked, absentmindedly twirling her hair.  
"Let's see, I will be glad to get my hair back, and be able to work a full day without being tired, or worried about by everyone at work. And I'll be glad to have sex with you again."  
"Me too." She smiled. "I'm going to be glad to keep the chaos at work and the quiet at home. And to spend time together because we can, not because, not because you're sick. And to go places together."  
"Where are we going to go?"  
"Who knows, we can just start walking somewhere and that's where we'll go."  
"You miss the sex too."  
"Yes, I do. But it's icing, I'm glad you're still around to do it with."

Owen sailed through the last round of chemo. He'd finally knew what to expect through even step of the treatment and managed to make it out alive and well. He was finally cancer free, and on his first cancer free day that he had enough energy they started walking. They went out of the apartment building and chose a path, left for right, and just started walking. Sometimes they'd chat, other times they think in the presence of each other. The only constants were they were walking and enjoying the journey, and Cristina's hand in Owen's.


End file.
